I don't ever look in the mirror. I don't think I'm good-looking, but I'm all right, I've no deformities. I am 85, but feel about 11. I think after the age of 11 you are fixed - so that's who I am.

My glasses used to be bigger and described as "Tweety Pie" glasses, but now they are thinner and more contemporary. My father had glaucoma, which is what I have, too. I was at school in Sloane Square and used to travel on the underground from the Temple, where we had a flat. One day, when I was seven or eight, I started to wear glasses, and when I got to school they thought I was a different person and put me into a different class. They didn't realise I'd been there before.

My wheelchair is a big part of my life now, ever since I fell and broke my leg a few years ago. I went to the theatre to see two short plays of mine called Legal Fictions. Someone said, "Break a leg!" and I did. I don't think about my wheelchair, really. It has its advantages. You get into aeroplanes ahead of everybody else and everybody looks after you.

I have quite a lot of hair, which is turning grey, but not many teeth. One fell out the other day. I don't replace them: I don't want false teeth. I've enough teeth to go on with, as I've gone off food. I don't really like the taste of it in my mouth. I am meant to drink several high-protein drinks a day. Every doctor tells you something different. One says have eight of these drinks a day and another says don't drink any, have a great injection of B something or other. So I stick to champagne - not very grand champagne. I drink it every morning, and that is the secret of a long life.